A Father's Gift (A Chocolate Cake Story)

Henry

Henry Jensen kissed his wife as she passed him, just as he had every day since they had first bought this house back in 1952. He watched as she turned the corner, towards their bedroom. From a closet, he pulled a cardboard box. Tonight, he would put Michael to rest.

He sat down in his oversized chair – Emily teasingly called it his 'Archie Bunker' chair – and looked around the living room. The walls were a photo gallery of their life together. There was the picture of their first date, and of their snowy wedding day; Michael as a newborn, looking right at his camera; Michael on the baseball team, the debate team, the math club, the science club; Michael on the football team, Michael's college graduation. Henry fought back tears.

It was now six years since Michael had been declared M.I.A. and the Veteran's Office had told him that, in all likelihood, Michael was dead. Emily still hoped, and each year she prepared a small celebration for his birthday. It was too much to bear. Their friends were worried that she might be going senile, or worse yet, that she had gone crazy with grief. Worst case of denial he'd ever seen, the psychologist had said.

As he reached for the first picture, and began to put it into the box, he stopped. Just for a moment, he felt the eyes of his son staring at him, from every photo in the room. Henry Jensen was not a superstitious man.

As he stood there, holding the picture of Michael in his uniform, he reminded himself that, just maybe, he was crazy as well. He had never told Emily about his dreams. Last week, an image came to him so clearly that, the next morning, he'd immediately drawn it and brought it to the Veterans office. As he was waiting, a General entered the office, and Henry felt compelled to thank him for his service. He told the general why he was there, and showed him the drawing.

"Have you ever studied maps of Vietnam? No? You saw this in a dream?" asked the man.

"Yes, and my son's hand rested right there!" Henry answered.

The General told him that there had once been a small village there, unknown to any except the natives and the military, but it had been destroyed by air strikes. No one had been found alive. But he promised Henry that he'd have it looked into.

Henry placed the photo back onto the mantelpiece. I will do this, he thought...some other night.